They Don't Stand A Chance
by Ilyalisse
Summary: An irreverent - but loving - take on The Lord of the Rings, with the introduction of our favorite gang of troublemakers from Hogwarts. Takes place sometime around the 3rd or 4th year in Harry Potter's world and just after Helm's Deep in the Middle Earth saga.
1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

England

"Ron, I'm not sure we should go through with this, for once," said Harry haltingly, holding his nose.

"Why not?" Ron was stirring the sickeningly yellow contents of a cauldron with his third broken wand. He, Harry, and Hermione were in the unused girls' bathroom, concocting a potion that would turn the drinker invisible for one hour.

"Why not?" snapped Hermione, finally breaking her brooding silence. "Why not, you dipwad? I'll tell you why not."

"Hermione -"

"Shut up! Ron, with you making the potion, we'll all end up in the infirmary with mogwallops on the insides of our stomachs, or worse! From the -"

"You said I could do this one, you and Harry said!" Ron wailed over her, chin aquiver. "You always get to make the potions and be clever and all that, and Harry gets to fight dragons and You-Know-Who - LET ME FINISH TALKING!" he bellowed as Hermione opened her mouth again angrily. "This once, just this once I'd like to do something other than sit around cheering everyone on and making stupid jokes!"

There was a silence that lasted for about a minute. Finally, Harry sighed, and patted Ron's head indulgently. "Well, we did say he could. And he's gone to a lot of trouble, stealing the ingredients and all that."

Ron's eyes lit up excitedly, mood swinging on a dime. "I - I can keep going?" he squealed, clapping his hands. Harry looked up at Hermione, who sighed gloomily.

"No good will come of this, I can tell," she said darkly. Ron ignored her and commenced throwing random ingredients into the cauldron which was now spewing green foam.

"Well, on the bright side ... er ..." Harry said, eying the liquid which was swiftly becoming a deep purple with orange specks.

"Yes?" glowered Hermione.

"Er, well, I can't think of any bright side, really. Care for a lemon drop?" Hermione threw a pair of frog legs at the wall in response.


	2. Chapter 2

Edoras, Rohan

Middle Earth

A door in the side of the great hall of Meduseld opened onto stone steps, the sounds of laughter and merrymaking within escaping into the night breeze, celebrations of the victory over Saruman's army at Helm's Deep a few days prior. The hobbits Merry and Pippin emerged from the festivities, Merry carting a tankard of ale.

Sitting down on the stone with a sigh, Pippin looked the skies with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. Merry plopped down next to him, hiccupping.

"Lookit the stars, Merry."

"Hunh?"

"Lookit them. Shouldn't there be more?" The pair gazed upwards and beheld the stars fading.

"Whush happ'ningn?" Merry gurgled softly; unable to discern whether he meant the stars or his general condition, Pippin thumped Merry's back as he burped.

"The darkness," said a coarse voice behind them suddenly, causing the two small hobbits to jump. Gandalf was looking at the sky as well, poised in the manner of the Very Wise. "Yes, the darkness hath cometh at last. Soon, our Doom shall be determined, and the Doom of Men."

The hobbits shifted uncomfortably as Gandalf stood solemnly, awaiting a reaction – perhaps awe and amazement. Yes, awe and amazement would do.

Pippin cleared his throat. "Well. Hmm. Best not leave the laundry out to dry, then."

"Indeed, Master Peregrin?" Gandalf said incredulously, looking down at Pippin over his large, crooked nose.

Merry, shaken from his drunken stupor, babbled his agreement. "Yesh, launder—launder—M'mam put th' launder out n' she'll kick me head if'n I take th' cabbage."

"Hundreds of thousands of men shall be massacred," boomed Gandalf. "Blood shall stain the fields of Pelannor for generations to come—"

"But their shirts will look crisp! Musn't be a Negative Nazgul," chirped Pippin, pleased to have thought of something helpful. Merry, drooling on the ground, grunted incoherently.

Gandalf's eyes flashed for a moment, but he managed to overcome the sudden desire to drop-kick the hobbits and left in a flurry of robes.


	3. Chapter 3

The Wilderness of Ithilien

Middle Earth

"I'm a-tellin' yer, Mister Frodo sir, that there Gollum's up to no good, no-how," hissed Sam in his thick West-Shire accent.

"Sam, as oft I have told you, Sméagol is our guide. Why do you not find it in your heart to trust him? He has led us already thus far without turning on our noble cause," reproached Frodo, his voice squeaking higher than usual. The two hobbits looked farther up the path where Sméagol was slouching about and muttering grimly to himself, occasionally wringing a tree branch violently – something he had taken to doing these last few days. "See now? There is no malice left in him." Frodo beamed happily.

Sam sighed, munching on a wad of Shire leaf, and watched Gollum prance around in circles screeching noisily about dead hobbits. "Yer be livin' in denial, Mister Frodo," he said to himself, then hitched up his pack, spat out some juice, quickly calculated pi to the fifty-eighth decimal place, and continued on after his master.


	4. Chapter 4

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

England

"Are you about done yet?" snapped Hermione, the entire situation balancing dangerously on her last nerve. She tapped her hourglass loudly next to Ron's ear. "It's been nearly three hours!"

"But ..." squeaked Ron, "I'm having fun!" His robes were covered in salamander eggs.

"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HAVING FUN WITH THIS!" wailed Hermione, a touch of despair mingled with frustration in her voice. "Have you looked at the recipe once?" she stormed on. "There aren't even supposed to be salamander eggs in it!"

"I know, I just _like_ sal -"

"You CAN'T put ingredients in a potion just because you feel like it, idiot. Do you pay any attention at all in Potions?"

"No," Ron and Harry answered in unison. Hermione glared at Harry.

"Salamander eggs are most commonly used in transportation spells. If we drink this, we may end up in Antarctica, for all we know!"

Ron looked thoughtful. "I like penguins."

"YOU FLIPPING MORON, WOULD YOU JUST -"

"Listen," Harry cut in, rubbing his chin self-importantly. "We need to stop arguing. We don't have any more time to waste if we're to spy on that new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. So we're going to have to take our chances, okay?" He glanced at Hermione. She gave him a horrified glare back, looked at the now oozing pink and black mixture, and pointedly back at Ron. Harry ignored her. Ron was thrilled.

"Lookie! I've got dixie cups!" he squealed.

"Let's just get this over with," grumbled Hermione.

"Okey-dokey!" he said happily. He grabbed a cup and dipped it into the cauldron, skimming a finger into the steaming mixture. "Ouch!" he cried, waving his hand about, splattering the potion from his cup everywhere. Harry and Hermione took cover behind a toilet.

"Here, er, use that," Harry said, pointing to the spoon lying next to Ron and grinning thickly.

"Oh," said Ron sheepishly, sucking a finger.

"Augh! Just give me the ladle," snapped Hermione, wondering what ever had possessed her to befriend these blockheads. She grabbed the cup from Ron's now smoking hand, took the ladle in her other hand, and poured the mixture into it. She then tilted Ron's head back violently and commenced to force-feed him.

As the mixture came into contact with his throat, Ron's eyes bugged out, his face reddened, and there was a loud BANG! and a rush of smoke.

"How very corny," coughed Hermione. When the haze lessened, they couldn't see Ron any more.

"Well, er, he's certainly disappeared," said Harry hopefully.

"Yes, but where has he gone? Probably scampered off someplace. Ron! Ron! Oh well, he'll turn up in an hour."

"In the meantime, we've got some spying to do." Harry picked up two more dixie cups and filled them with the potion, then handed one to Hermione.

"Cheers," she said glumly, and they downed their potions simultaneously.


	5. Chapter 5

Edoras, Rohan

Middle Earth

It was daytime in Edoras. In the early hours of the morning, Pippin had looked into the depths of the Palantir and was seen by the Eye of Sauron. Gandalf was now in a private meeting with Théoden, the King of Rohan, to discuss the next plan of action.

In the meantime, Merry and Pippin sat out on the steps before the Great Hall. Their feeble attempts at conversation had ended in coughs and muttering. Merry, who had the universal symptoms of an excruciating hangover, spent most of the time glaring at Pippin, who in turn spent most of the time staring fixedly at his feet-hair.

"Well?" glowered Merry all of a sudden.

"Well what?" whimpered Pippin.

"Well _well_?"

"Well _well_ well _what_?"

There was a loud BANG! and a rush of smoke, and a girl with a head of very frizzy hair slammed onto the stone before them.

"Ow!" she cried, then rolled over onto her side and opened her eyes. "What the -"

Merry and Pippin stared at her, all arguments and hangovers forgotten.

Hermione, dazed, let her eyes adjust to the bright light of the sun for a minute. Then she looked up and noticed that two midgets with giant feet were staring at her. _Dear lord! Is that Harry and Ron?_ she thought, her mind still reeling. _What has the spell done to them? Oh my god! What do _I_ look like?_ She looked down at herself quickly and was relieved to find that she looked relatively the same, but her Hogwarts uniform was a bit dusty. She stood up, brushed herself off, and looked around.

"Where am I?" she asked bluntly. They just glanced at each other, then resumed staring at her. Seeing that these dimwits weren't going to be much help, she glanced around. Maybe they were mutes or something. She shielded her eyes from the sun and glanced over at the city behind her. There were people doing their laundry, leading horses around, cleaning armor, yelling at each other in some foreign language, standing around looking heroic, all dressed in very Middle Ages-esque clothing. Looking back at the things with big feet and seeing that they were still staring at her, she tried again.

"Excuse me, but I believe I am lost. Would you mind telling me where we are?"

More staring.

"Well if you're not going to help me, do you know anyone who will so I can stop talking to myself?" she snapped, irritated.

At that precise moment, a man dressed in a weathered tunic with slightly oily-looking hair sauntered up to the hobbits, cleaning off his sword with a rag. "Gandalf has requested that you both ... uh ... you both ... Have we met, good lady?"

"No, we haven't. Will you answer any of my questions, or should I wander off into some forest and ask a tree?"

The man blinked at the directness of her speech. "Ah.. One could indeed ask a tree, but it is doubtful that the tree would be of ary help, as ye appear to be of the race of Man. I shall answer ary question ye may have if I be in possession of the knowledge. What is it ye wish to know, O stranger?"

Hermione sighed and chose to ignore his comment about trees, taking it for sarcasm. "First off, where the bloody hell am I?"

The man blinked some more at the strange manner of speech of this little girl with strange hair. "Thou art in Edoras, my lady, and ye stand before the Golden Halls of Meduseld. But it is not currently bloody."

Hermione blinked a bit as well, feeling like the name "Edoras" ought to ring a bell. Ignoring that, she moved on to another line of questioning. "And who are you?"

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the man said proudly, thumping his chest with a fist and standing a bit straighter, dirty hair catching the sun's rays. "This is Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. They are hobbits of the Shire." He gestures towards the two midgets, who still stared, stone-still.

Hermione pondered his words for a moment, then her eyes grew round with both recognition and disbelief.

"Oh. My. GOD! I'm in- you're- this is- these are- oh my god, I'm going to simply kill Ron, the salamander eggs, and the- these- you- me- Mordor- books- Frodo- the Shire- Gandalf- Rohan- where could Harry- elves- hobbits- kill Ron-"


	6. Chapter 6

The Wilderness of Ithilien

Middle Earth

It was a deceptively bright morning. Sam stood and stretched, looking out Eastward, and beheld a shadow slowly edging across the skies. He estimated that they would perhaps reach them by mid-afternoon, depending on the average wind gust strength and how fast his party walked in relation to their current global positioning. He did a bit of casual calculation in his head, interpreting the variables to the best of his extensive knowledge of calculus, and concluded that the clouds would reach them by 3:18 pm, give or take a few minutes. He hunkered down again and prodded Frodo in the shoulder in a would-be gentle manner.

"Mister Frodo sir, they's a dark cloud in that there Eastern sky o'er yonder. If we's a-goin' ter Mordor an' all, we's best be needin' ter get a move-on, pardon my wakin' yer."

"It is quite alright," yawned Frodo. "Where is Sméagol?"

Sam scowled. "He's taken off to that there yonder stream, a-catchin' hisself a fish. Disgustin', if I may be so bold as ter offer my opinion, Mister Frodo sir."

"Maaaaaaaaaster!" squealed Gollum/Sméagol, prancing over to Frodo on all fours, completely ignoring Sam. "Are we leaving, Precious? We must leave soon, the days grow dark, yes Precious they do!" He squatted where he was and began gnawing his raw fish. Sam spat on the ground to display his revulsion.

Just then, there was a loud BANG! and a rush of smoke. A bony kid with messy black hair and knobby knees slammed onto the dirt in front of Sam, just where he had spat a second earlier.

"Holy crap!" the boy yelled. He opened his eyes and sat up, and saw the frightened faces of two dumpy-looking creatures just as tall as his waist, and a creepy-looking thing with enormous eyes biting into a raw fish with some of it dribbling down its chin.

"Aaaaaaaah!" screamed Harry, his green eyes round in terror.

"Aaaaaaaah!" agreed Sam in a hoarse voice, the tobacco falling out of his mouth.

"Aaaaaaaah!" howled Gollum, dropping his fish and hopping up and down.

"Aaaaaaaah!" shrieked Frodo in a girlie manner, waving his arms around.

"Where am I?"

"Precioussss!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! *faints*"

"See what yer did? Yer git away, yehear? *swings frying pan*"

"_Ouch! _Bloody hell!"

"Fishhh gone! Precious!"

"*hyperventilating*"

"Mister Frodo sir! Breathe, sir, breathe!"


	7. Chapter 7

Some Random Hilltop in the Misty Mountains, Thousands Of Miles Away from Anything

Middle Earth

There was a loud BANG! and a rush of smoke, startling several mountain goats. A lanky redhead fell face-down into a pile of deer turds. He sat up, shivering a bit in his cloak, not used to the crisp mountain air.

"H-h-hello?" Ron ventured. "Harry? Hermione?"

His words echoed around before returning to him. A few songbirds halted their good-morning serenade to listen to him, heads cocked to one side. They had never seen a human before. A ground squirrel popped its head out of its burrow and chattered at Ron to keep it down already.

Ron grinned, excited about the echo of his voice, and yelled, "Chicken poopies!" _Chicken poopies_ returned to him from all angles. A rabbit froze in its tracks at the sound. Ron hunkered down again in the moss with a grin, pleased as peaches.


	8. Chapter 8

Edoras, Rohan

Middle Earth

Aragorn led Hermione into the Golden Hall and stood her in front of King Théoden's high throne. To the king's right stood Gandalf the White, staff in hand, glancing at Hermione sidelong, attempting to mask his utter confusion. To the king's left were Eomer and Eowyn, his nephew and niece, both formidable with their Viking caps and beards. On Hermione's right hand side loomed Aragorn, and on her left were Legolas the elf and Gimli the dwarf. In the corner, sitting on a bench, Merry and Pippin still stared at her with wide eyes.

"So. Tell me your story," commanded Théoden.

Hermione cleared her throat and sighed at the same time, something she had grown exceedingly good at. "Well, let's see. We were making a potion that-"

"Excuse me?" interrupted the king.

"Oh, right. Let's start over. I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Excuse me?" interrupted Gandalf, perplexed.

"Well, we're a different sort of wizard than you are. Anyway, it's in England."

"Excuse me?" interrupted Aragorn.

"That's in the real world."

"_Excuse_ me?" interrupted Éowyn.

Great start this has gotten off to, thought Hermione to herself. "Well, for starters, how do I put this?" Hermione wondered out loud. "You're all in a book, written by J.R.R. Tolkien, called 'The Lord of the Rings.' Please, don't say 'Excuse me', I'll explain." Gimli closed his mouth, waiting for her to explain what a book was. (Sadly for him, she never would.) "Anyway, it's a series of three books, a trilogy. I've read it, obviously, though it was a while back and I could use some refreshing. The movie was entertaining, but doesn't really help with this situation at all. So when I'm done, if you could give me an update on everything that's happened up to now, it'd be greatly appreciated." This drew blank stares from everyone in the room. "Oh. How I got here. Right.

"So basically, we're making this invisibility potion - Harry, Ron, and I. Ron, of course, wants to make it on his own, but he's highly inept at ... well ... everything. But stupidly, we let him do it anyway because Harry feels sorry for him. Even more stupidly, we drank it when he was done. So I ended up here. I don't know where Harry and Ron are, though I can honestly say that at this point I do not care. Now, could anyone tell me what's going on, so I can put myself on the map here?"

After a lengthy silence, Gandalf spoke. "Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Yes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm a witch. Did you hear anything else I sa-"

"And what kind of magic do you perform? Tricks?" he inquired further.

Hermione bristled. "Depends on your interpretation of 'tricks.'"

"Would you mind demonstrating something for us?" Gandalf asked hesitantly. The young witch beamed. It was moments like these that she lived for.

"Of course!" she announced far more amicably. "Let's see ... Ah, yes. Here's a fairly simple one. Learned it my first year." The girl extracted a long brown stick from the inside of her black robes, and pointed it at the goblet that Gimli had set down on the wooden table. While exhibiting her O-level-earning swish-and-flick wand movement, she said primly, "Wingardium leviosa!"

There were audible gasps of disbelief as the goblet hovered in the air. Merry and Pippin finally ripped their gaze from Hermione to stare at the goblet. There was a high-pitched shriek that Hermione suspected came from Legolas. Théoden leaned so far forward in his throne that he nearly toppled out of it. Éomer fell to his knees, quaking.

"Geez, it's just levitation," Hermione muttered, and let it fall back to the table with a clang.

There was another silence. "You- you say you've read a book of some sort, my lady, that had to do with all of us," the king said in a slightly more respectful tone of voice. Hermione could not contain her smirk.

"Yes, I have. Can somebody tell me of the present circumstance? The Fellowship's already broken, right? That means Boromir's dead. What's happened since then?"

Aragorn cleared his throat. "I shall speak, O knowledgeable one. Frodo and Sam left us at golden Rauros Falls, as did Boromir son of Denathor." Heads bowed. Hermione raised an eyebrow, unmoved.

"Well, he was kind of a prick anyway, don't you think?" she murmured, half to herself. People stared at her, aghast. "Well I mean, he did try to take the- never mind. Continue."

Chafing at being commanded by a little girl but too afraid of her brown magic stick to say anything, Aragorn continued. "Merry and Pippin were seized by the Uruks, despite Boromir's last courageous battle. We tracked the band of Uruks for three days. We were then informed that the Uruks had been destroyed by the Rohirrim, and took the hobbits for dead." Merry and Pippin in unison changed the object of their gaping from the goblet to Hermione again. "However, when we arrived at the bonfire of Uruk corpses, I read the signs on the ground and perceived that both Merry and Pippin had escaped into Fangorn Forest. We followed the tracks. There in the forest, Gandalf returned to us. We then came to Edoras, whence we freed King Théoden from the hold of Saruman. Théoden then ordained that all people of Edoras exile to Helm's Deep for safety. There we fought the great battle against the Uruk Hai of Isengard, and were victorious. The Ents, while Saruman's gaze was distracted by the battle of the Deep, overpowered Isengard and trapped Saruman in his tower. Early this very morning, Pippin looked into the Palantir of Orthanc and was seen by The Eye. That is all of importance that has occurred thus far."

Hermione scratched her head, taking in everything, the story coming back to her now. "What are you waiting for? Isn't Gandalf supposed to take Pippin to Minas Tirith?"

There was a pause. "To be completely truthful, my lady," Gandalf said slowly, "we hadn't thought of that."

"Glad to be of service. You're supposed to ride that horse, Shadowfox or Shadowfax or whatever, to Minas Tirith. Then the beacons of Gondor will be lit, and Rohan will muster its army, and -" She stopped herself, realizing that if she wasn't careful she would spill out the entire story. "And, er, you can take it from there," she ended lamely.

After another moment, Théoden stood up. "Well, what are you standing around for, you useless piece of Istari scum?" he roared at Gandalf. "Get with the riding!"


	9. Chapter 9

The Wilderness of Ithilien

Middle Earth

After the confusion had been sorted out and Sam had apologized for hitting Harry on the head with a frying pan, Frodo explained their predicament to Harry as best he could.

"So," said Harry, relating the story back to Frodo to make sure he understood correctly. "Er ... There's a Ring, okay, and you have to go to this Mordor place over those creepy mountains and destroy it, and if this Dark Lord dude gets it, he will wreak havoc on the world and everyone will die."

"Good. And ... you say you're a Wizard?"

"Um, yeah. I'm not very good, but I've got the wand all." He reached into his robes and held forth his wand. Frodo and Sam seemed vaguely confused for a second, but accepted it as a miniature staff. They looked upon him henceforth with pity; he must not be so very powerful at all, to be issued such a tiny staff.

"Where'd that goll-durned Gollum get hisself off to?" Sam growled, eyes darting around. "We'd best hightail it off if we's to make up for tarryin' here so long." He did some revisions of his previous calculations and estimated that it would be 2:57 pm when the clouds reached the party, the intensified gust strength of the wind overriding the amount of time spent inactive.

"Oh look, there he is now. He's doing that splendid talking-to-himself act again. Sméagol!" Frodo called lovingly. "We're ready to go now, Sméagol!" Gollum glared at Frodo, gnashed his teeth, and waddled back. "Isn't he adorable?" Frodo said fondly. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. Er, adorable. Really adorable."


	10. Chapter 10

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

England

Draco Malfoy tiptoed to the unused girls bathroom, where he suspected Harry and his cronies did their dirty work. Sticking his gelled head in and looking back and forth, he smiled grimly. Ah look, the invisibility potion he happened to overhear the three whispering oh-so-discreetly about last week over dinner (lamb pie and tarantula legs, his favorite). He sauntered over to the cauldron and saw that there were still a few drops at the bottom, a subtle green color. Grabbing one of the leftover dixie cups, he poured the remains of the potion into it and gulped it down.


	11. Chapter 11

Minas Morgûl, Outside Mordor

Middle Earth

In the uppermost chambers of the hidden tower, the Nazgúl were undergoing a training session led by their chief, the Witch-King of Agmar, the greatest of the Nine.

"Ye Nazgúl have let your voices go to seed," he said in a gravely voice. "Thinkest you that I have not detected your indolence? Number Four, thine voice is detestable. If e'en once in this practice thou art out of tune, thine head shalt be seen henceforth on the uppermost peak of yonder Ephel Dúath." He looked around at the other Nazgúl, who were cowering respectfully. "Now. Repeat yourselves after me. Doooooooooooom."

"Doooooooooooom," the eight repeated, the very picture of obedience. "Dooom, doooooooooooooom, dooooooooooooooom ..."

After sufficient 'doom' choruses in C minor and G harmonies, he halted them with a raised hand, the metal of his armor creaking. "Mine ears hath withstood all of the noise they can for the present. Now. Fifty leg-lifts. Put your backs into it! For Mordor!" The other Nazgúl lay compliantly on their backs. "One!" In unison, they lifted their right legs. "Two!" They lifted their left legs.

BANG!

All nine Nazgúl swept to their feet in a flurry of robes, screeching melodically.

A sallow-looking boy with white-blonde hair lay on his stomach, clutching at his ears in an attempt to block out the noise, yelling something about his father.


End file.
